


The path to the road and the knowledge of own essence

by Baracuda



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baracuda/pseuds/Baracuda
Summary: A way to yourself doesn't look to take long, but once you step on it, it becomes endless. Harry Potter is almost a normal person, with a lightning under his brow. Will he make friends with Hagrid, Mione and Ron? Will he be able to deal with the great secret and Dark Lord?





	1. Chapter 1

Harry was an unusual boy. Not only he had a scar, but glasses, too. He had his father's thin face and a pair of most unusual green eyes his mom gave him. He also got a lightning scar on his forehead. His hair was jet-black and unmanageable, Harry couldn't do anything with it - he inherited it from his father.  
Harry woke up and immediately understood there was no reason to be so cheery. His pig-like cousin brother was jumping on the stairs so that to wake up Harry. Harry was sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs.  
He didn't have a room of his own because he lived with his aunt, his mother's sister and her husband. They didn't like him because he was Black.  
Harry always felt he wasn't like the other kids. He thought this was due to the strange things that happened sometimes, like the time when he changed his teacher's hair colour to blue. But then he started to realise it wasn't the only reason his ant and uncle were calling him "freak". It was also because his mother married an Indian man. His cousin brother was blond and had fair complexion whilst Harry was pretty dark-skinned, only his green eyes gave away his half-English ancestry.  
The other thing that made him different from his adoptive family was his faith. Harry found out that his parents were committed to the only true faith, they were Muslims. But he wasn't allowed to do his "freakish things", he couldn't do salah. It was also frustrating that on the only photo of his mom he found he couldn't see his mother's face, she was wearing burqa.  
\- Get out, Freak, make us some breakfast! - his aunt was yelling from the kitchen. Harry quickly bounced on his tiny bed and put in into his glasses.  
After visiting the bathroom, Harry went to the kitchen and started to make breakfast. Bacon, as usually, ew. Harry winced with disgust from the contact with halal food.  
Dudley staffed his face when the post arrived.  
\- Bring the mail, son, - Aunt Tuna asked him. Dude responded with something incoherent and pointed on Harry.  
So Harry went to get the mail. Among the usual spam he noticed a strange envelop. It was yellow and looked very old, and the address was written in beautifully handwriting i emerald ink. And it was for Harry. It said Mr. H. Potter  
The Cupboard under the Stairs  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey  
Harry dropped his jaw on the floor with surprise. Someone wrote to HIM?  
\- Hurry up, boy! - His uncle roared from the kitchen. Harry got the other mail from the door mat, stuffed strange thick envelop under his waistband and returned to the kitchen.  
\- What took you so long? - aunt Tuna asked.  
\- Nothing. Just a postcard from aunt Marge. - Aunt Marge was his aunt's husband's elder sister.  
\- If you've finished your break fast, go wash the car then and trim the loan. - Harry was only too happy to comply, as greasy jalal bacon was all over his eggs and porridge he couldn't really eat any of it.  
When he was alone again, Harry took out the envelope and examined it. It had a large H latter in the top right corner where a postage stamp would usually be. No post stamp. Nothing. And a strangely precise address - a cupboard under the stairs.  
The boy opened the envelope and read the letter. When he touched it, he felt a strange warm tide building up inside him.  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme  
Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)  
Dear Mr. Potter,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts  
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all  
necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall,  
Deputy Headmistress  
\- We wait your owl... - whispered Harry. - What the heck in Prophet's name?  
He balled up the letter and threw it away. It was some sick joke, probably by some thugs from his school. He forgot everything about the incident for the time being.  
Well, up until the evening someone blew off their front door.


	2. unexpected guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will finish it later!!!

It was beautifull worning: the Hogwarts was on fire, every window reflecting the sunrise, the trees wore summer-green robes.  
A tap on the window woke up Hagrid, school giant and gamekeeper. Hagrid opened the window, it was a litter from Dumblendore.  
Hogrid quickly read through the note wondering what Elvis wanted from him, searched his backside for the queel and scribed a short reply.  
He was going to meet the boy for the first time in more, then ten years. 

***

Harry was managing the garden when he heard ant Petunia shouting at someone. Wondering, what happened, he came in the cottege through the back door.  
A giant, perhaps, nine feet tall man was standing in their hall. He was wearing old leather trouser and velvet camisole with patches at the elbows, his hair was tangled and he also had beards. The giant had smal black eye, gleaming like bugs. Harry couldn't help but wondered why his aunt broght a homeless man in the house.   
\- Harry! Haven't seen you in a while. You have grown, - the giant spoke to him amicably, his tone warm.  
\- Hello, sir, - Harry answred curtly and tried to clean his dirty hand with his shirt to shake hobo's hand. - I don't think we met before, though?  
\- You don't remember me, of course, kid. An old friend of your parents I am.


End file.
